


Time Itself

by Clockwork



Series: Charms and Charmed [7]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Heartache, Heartbreaking, Love, Post Series, Romance, jk contradicts herself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 19:05:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13083402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clockwork/pseuds/Clockwork
Summary: Post movie as Percival is returned to his life. Kind of.





	Time Itself

It had been nearly five years since that fateful trip to Salem when Percival Graves had found himself abducted by the dark wizard Grindelwald. Five years of being trapped in a maze of corridors that led nowhere, providing only as much sustenance as was needed to keep the wizard alive.

It had been nearly a year into his abduction that Graves realized why he was being kept rather than murdered. The thought of polyjuice potion obviously came to mind, but there was no sense in that given he did not have a visit from his abductor for nearly six months. At least nearly six months with how he kept time through marks on the wall, judging by his own sleep rather than by an idea of when the sun rose or set. 

Just after the first year he finally saw the face of the man that had taken him and realized how much trouble he was truly in. Even if he wasn’t sure why. Being held meant someone was going after the President, but why? Being held by Grindelwald changed everything, but it also gave one of the darkest of wizards access to some of the world’s best aurors. Aurors loyal to the face he now wore through masterful transfiguration. 

Despite the power of the man holding him, Graves had never given up. Not with thoughts of the president’s life at stake. Not with through of what could become of MACUSA, and the American witches and wizards that relied on them. Not when he thought of Queenie, waiting for him to return and not having a single clue of what Grindelwald might have said to her. Or done. The very thought she might be dead fueled him with such rage and anger some days that he hurt himself in hurling magic at every conceivable wall, trying to find a way out. 

It had taken nearly two years to work out just how the wards of his prison were powered. Another year to work up a chink in the magical armor. A chink he hadn’t been able to open more than a few centimeters in the next twelve months - if he was even keeping time accurately with his lack of sleep and momentary lapses of consciousness due to exertion of magic and lack of food. A small break in the armor that gave him focus, the will to keep pushing, but sadly did little to help him get beyond the myriad of wards and enchantments that Grindelwald had put on this place.

Trapped as he was, held by the one of the few wizards or witches with the skills to keep Percival from escaping, Graves never gave up on trying to find a way out. Even if, in the end, he had found himself rescued by his own Aurors and a rather goofy young man from abroad who turned out to be an ally… as well as a smuggler, he later learned.

Rescued was a start, though it returning to his previous life quickly became something else entirely. 

The President had insisted on a leave of absence. The order had been for a month to allow him to both acclimate himself to physical activity once more, as well as practicing his skills as a wizard and an auror. 

That order had lasted all of three days before he had returned to the Woolworth building. Three days of considering how much had changed. Three days of reading the reports about all the obscurus had done to his city, the thunderbird, and how this Brit had found Grindelwald hiding under Percival’s face. 

Without polyjuice, Grindelwald’s transfiguration skills were beyond any that Graves had known but not good enough that he could keep up the facade without utilizing the strength of Percival’s own magic. At least now he knew truly why he had been allowed to live. Anyone slip in the facade would have been dangerous, and without a living form to take from, time could have allowed for minute changes not noticed by Grindelwald, but certainly by others. He had been allowed to live, but what he didn’t know was the ways in which life had gone on without him. That they hadn’t thought to include in any of the reports he had.

None of those documents told him who this wizard from England truly was. A budding magizoologist without graduation documentation from Hogwarts or any of the other schools - European or others. Yet without that he had been strong enough to save the city and obliterate all of the muggles that had learned the truth when the Barebone’s child had lost control. 

Nothing told him how truly much damage Grindelwald had done under his name. In his name! Nothing spoke of what may have happened between this imposter and the aurors he had personally hired and trained. There was nothing of how the relationship between Head of Security and the President had changed. And nothing in those reports told him anything about Queenie and how she was. Not a single thing.

Silence preceded him as he strode into the building, coat billowing once more in his wake as if nothing had changed. Groups of wizards and witches stopped in their tracks, conversations silencing as they took notice of Percival’s return. Ignoring the looks, the whispers that were starting to rise in a hushed crescendo, he strode straight through the gathering groups, making no hesitation in going to his office.

Pausing outside the door, he glanced down the hallway beyond the massive, dark stained door to his rooms. Spotting the face he was looking for, he gave a nod. The auror followed him into the office, closing the door behind her without a word.

Three hours later the Auror opened the door once more, finding herself standing toe to toe with the President. Neither knew how long she had been standing there. Neither Percival nor the Auror said a word. 

“Out.” It was a single word from Seraphina as she fixed Percival with a hard look over the Auror’s shoulder. 

He didn’t argue, gathering the notes he had made during the meeting and brushing past the pair to leave. She had ordered him out though, and not made it a command to return home. He took that very much to heart. Certainly leaving, as he headed away from the building but did not head for home. Instead he positioned himself at an outdoor cafe down the street that allowed him a clear view of the front door, and a cup of coffee that kept him company while he went through his notes. 

Notes about the obscurus and the damage done both to the city itself and the wizarding community. Notes about how that case the Brit had smuggled in contained so many creatures, including a thunderbird they had not known was missing from the country. So many details to try and cover from five years, even have been given details on Queenie and the no-maj she had obviously taken a shine to. 

It was the later that had him camping out to watch the entrance of MACUSA while working on notes about beefing up security on entry, as well as drafting an idea of tracking the mystical creatures that had been left in the country. The ones that definitely shouldn’t have fallen into the hands of others. What if the next time it was into the hands of the no-maj? Worse, the sort that run Second Salem? Executing them all was not an answer. Controlling their movement perhaps should be.

He wasn’t ready to agree with the way the British handled magical creatures, and he wasn’t ready to fight against the President. Hearing what he had though, the thought was there that perhaps there were things from these creatures that perhaps they could use. He wouldn’t approach it until he had done more research on the creatures left in their country, and how much it would benefit them. 

Caught up in those thoughts, Percival almost missed the exit of two women from the building. Tina and Queenie were quite the pair, a mixture of stark determination and elegant beauty, and Percival was on his feet in an instant, knowing his goal had been found. Gathering up his papers as his gaze darted from the table back to the pair, watching as they seemingly conversed before sharing a hug. Tina headed in the direction where he knew their apartment was. Queenie headed the other way. Percival followed.

Certainly he cut a domineering and memorable figure in dark shades, his coat designed to billow just so behind him by the very woman he followed. He had thought to burn all the suits that Grindelwald had worn, but he couldn’t bring himself to destroy her designs. Even if he wondered how much his absence may have destroyed her. 

Five years had been an eternity in that maze, but how long had it been for her? No one could find evidence of another in her life but her sister from the time Percival vanished until this Scamander fellow and the no-maj had jeopardized the city and stopped an obscurus. Five years she had, as best anyone could tell, Queenie had stayed true to his memory, even after he had seemingly returned and, best anyone could surmise, had broken her heart.   
Three days since he’d been found. Tina had been there with the British wizard. Queenie had made no effort to contact him in the interim. He couldn’t blame her. Nor did he have anyone to talk to, to admit to about how deeply that alone had stung. 

So he followed her, trailing a couple of blocks back as she made her way to the very destination where he assumed they were headed. Kowalski Quality Baked Goods. 

He had seen images of the pastries, and recognized the creatures they emulated. The reports hinted that the spellcraft used by the Scamander wizard hadn’t been strong enough. Graves suspected otherwise. It wasn’t the magic that had failed. It was his heart that had overcome. The same as Queenie’s heart had her risking herself and her life as she made her way to see the no-maj once more. Intentionally Percival dropped the wards that protected his mind, letting her feel the weight of his gaze as he watched her.

Queenie stopped on the sidewalk, slowly turned to scan the street and the crowds that milled about as they made their way around the city. It wasn’t long before her gaze met his. She looked so pensive, so nervous in that moment, and anger flared up within as he wondered how much damage the dark wizard had done to his own reputation. 

Except she didn’t hesitate in changing course, crossing the street with little concern for herself and striding purposefully towards him. It was perhaps the one and only time in his life that Graves had truly ever thought of turning on heel and, if not running, well then certainly leaving in a hurry. Instead he held his ground. 

“You’re supposed to be home resting, you know.”

Whatever he’d been expecting, that wasn’t the answer. Not in the least. Yet it made him smile, the corner of his eyes crinkling. The entire gesture felt odd, abnormal after years of not so much as feeling any sort of joy. Whatever Grindelwald had done, had hadn’t broken her spirit. It was a blessing, albeit a small one.

“Oh I think we’re both guilty of things currently we’re not meant to be doing. Did you plan to avoid me from now on?”

She shook her head instantly, curls bobbing. “Not forever. Just until… some worry you’re not all there, you know?” She tapped her temple with one finger. “I didn’t want to be part of hurting you more than he did, you know?”

From anyone else, Percival might have thought it a ruse. Never from Queenie though. 

“Trust me, if there’s anyone less likely to hurt me than you, I’ve yet to meet them. Could we… Tomorrow evening. Could we meet tomorrow evening? To talk? I want to know how you’ve been.”

Queenie hesitated only then, glancing back over her shoulder. When her gaze returned to Percival’s, she nodded. “Of course. Tomorrow night then. Thank you. For not asking about tonight.”

He gave his head a tight shake, gathering his leather case closer to his side. “I’m many things, and I’ve been through a lot, but I’ve never been dense, Queenie. Go. Have a pastry. That’s all you’re here for, right?”

It wasn’t grilling, nor rudeness. It was giving her an out. A promise that he wouldn’t say anything about where she was, or who she was most certainly seeing. She truly understood that, her smile brilliant and perfect and painful all at the same time.

“Thank you, Percival. Tomorrow then. Now, go home. Seraphina told you out. I’m telling you to go home.”

Again he felt those odd tightness as he gave her a small smile and a nod, turning on heel to leave her to the no-maj. She had been listening, watching him. He wasn’t sure yet if that was a delight or painful, and he wasn’t sure the next night was going to be enough to solve that riddle. Perhaps time itself would never be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> JK has contradicted herself greatly. She said that it was not polyjuice, that it as transfiguration. Then she said that Graves never truly existed, but then said he was a descendant of one of the early American wizarding families. This is my solution to her not giving a solid story from one interview to the next.


End file.
